He didn’t speak loudly, but the profanity made the dowager gasp. “How dare you,” she said.
But Alex wasn’t going to let her ride roughshod over them like children anymore. Her days of ruling this family with sharp words behind closed doors and simpers in public were over.
“That’s enough, Grandmama.”
To William, he said, “Perhaps you can take the child up to the nursery. I’ve asked Quick to have the smaller room there readied for her, and the wet nurse should be there by now.”
His eyes still on the baby in his arms, William nodded. Then as he began to walk, he stopped and spoke to Merry. “Thank you, Miss Parks. I know you have good reason to detest me for what I did to Charlotte, but in bringing me our child you’ve given me the greatest gift a man ever received. I won’t forget it.”
And without a backward glance at his grandmother, he walked from the room, leaving the door ajar behind him.
Once he was gone, Alex saw Merry shiver. He moved closer to her, and with a hand on her lower back, he guided her to stand before the fire. She started a little at the feel of his hand, but the next second relaxed into the touch. And despite the lightness of the contact, Alex took strength from it.
Before he could continue speaking, however, Lady Wrotham broke in.
“I suppose you’re pleased with yourself, my girl,” she said in a clipped tone, her patrician features tight with annoyance. Clearly she blamed Merry for the day’s drama. Not Will, not even Alex, who had brought her here. “Now that your little stunt has succeeded and my grandson is well and truly trapped with that nobody’s child, you are free to take yourself away again.” She turned her gaze on Alex.
“Wrotham,” the dowager said, “see that the carriage is brought round so that Miss Parks may return to London. I feel sure she’s as eager to remain here as we are to have her.”
But Alex was finished taking orders from her. Staying precisely where he was, he stared right back at her. And something in his look must have alerted her to the fact she’d gone too far.
Good.
“I’ve given you far too much power in our lives,” he said, careful to keep his tone civil. Not only would giving his temper full rein make for an uncomfortable scene for Merry, but it would be counterproductive. His grandmother didn’t take well to theatrics. “I can see that now. I suppose I was so shattered by my mother’s departure and Father’s harsh rule that I welcomed your guidance. And truly, you have been a great help to me as I’ve managed the estate. But while I was in France, I had the chance to meet my mother. And I know the truth now.”
His grandmother’s eyes, green like his own, widened at his disclosure. For a flash she even looked frightened. But just as quickly, she resumed her mask of hauteur.
“I’ll thank you not to speak about family business in front of a stranger, Wrotham,” she said, resuming the mantle of matriarch. “There will be time enough for us to discuss this once she’s gone.”
Alex was going to destroy this bit of nonsense, but Merry spoke first.
“Oh, you needn’t worry about me, my lady,” she said with a look of cool indifference. “I’ll be leaving as soon as possible now that Lottie has been reunited with her father. I had thought to stay a few days to see her settled, but I find the company here to be quite unpleasant.”
And as Alex watched, she began walking to the double doors where William had just exited the room.
Alarm raced through him. She couldn’t leave. Not now. Then, he saw something out the window that gave him some relief.
“No,” he said, moving to halt her progress with a hand on her arm. “You will stay, as long as you think necessary to settle in the child. My grandmother has forgotten that I am the head of this family, and I have the final say on who is and who is not welcome here.”
Merry opened her mouth to argue, but he continued. “Look out the window,” he said with what he had to admit was an insufferable degree of smugness. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t let her go before he had a chance to fix things between them. “It’s snowing.”
Looking frustrated, Merry did as he asked, and as she saw the heavy snow that had threatened them as soon as they crossed into Kent, a flash of relief shone in her eyes before she covered it with indifference.
She’d been bluffing. She’d wanted to stay as much as he wanted her to. And if her reasons had more to do with the baby upstairs in the Wrotham nursery, well, he could live with that.
“I’m afraid you’re stuck here for the next week or so, Miss Parks,” he said without regret. “The roads will be difficult to navigate in this weather, and I know you’re not foolhardy enough to risk the lives of the horses or the servants—not to mention your own—by insisting. Whether you wish it or not, you’ll be spending Christmas at Wrotham Keep.”
Chapter Four
Merry watched the snowflakes falling in a quiet deluge on the other side of the mullioned windows of the Wrotham Keep drawing room.
It had occurred to her, of course, that there was some risk in traveling at this time of year, when rain and snow could make it impossible to leave when one wished to. But conjecture and reality were two different things. She was, however, relieved that she wouldn’t need to leave Lottie quite so soon. And if a part of her was also pleased not to be leaving Alex again so soon, well, that would pass soon enough.
Especially given that his grandmother had already wished her gone with all the politeness a peeress would offer a scheming jade attempting to ensnare her grandson.
The dowager, it would seem, had changed little since she’d engineered Merry’s departure five years earlier. Turning from the window, she saw that both occupants of the room were watching her for a response.
“If it would make her ladyship more comfortable,” she said to Alex, who looked rather severe, “I can simply stay out of the way, in the nursery with Lottie.” This would also take her out of the constant company of Alex, who was beginning to break through the protective shield she’d built around herself in the years since their broken betrothal.
But it was not to be.
“You most certainly will not,” Alex said sharply. “I won’t hear of you locking yourself away like that. You’re a guest here in my home. And Grandmama”—as he spoke her name, he directed a stern look at Lady Wrotham—“will be happy to welcome you to Wrotham Keep for the holidays. Will you not, Grandmama?”
Merry watched as the other woman schooled what had been an expression of disdain into one of grudging acceptance. “I suppose it cannot be helped,” she said tightly. “Dinner is at six, Miss Parks. I hope you brought something appropriate to wear.”
With that remark, she rose, her walking stick clutched tightly in her gnarled hand. “I shall leave you to sort out the details of your stay. But, Alex, I hope you will recall that I invited Lady Katherine Needham and Miss Emily Delaford to join us for the holidays. Miss Parks may not know it, but it is high time you set up your nursery, and these are just the kind of ladies of good breeding and bloodlines that would serve you well as a wife.”
Left unsaid, but lingering in the air, was the declaration that Merry was decidedly not the right kind of bride for Viscount Wrotham.
With that, she walked with surprising vigor from the room, her exit punctuated by the sound of her stick hitting the Aubusson carpet at regular intervals as she went.
It was hardly a surprise to learn that the dowager was still trying to manipulate Alex’s life. And yet, Merry couldn’t help the knot of disappointment and, yes, jealousy she felt at hearing the names of the ladies who’d been chosen for him. Her hand went to her lips, unconsciously recalling the kiss they’d shared in her London drawing room.
“It’s not what you think,” he said into the silence, once they were alone.
“I’m sure I don’t need any explanations,” Merry said, moving to lean against the window casing, eager to at least appear to concentrate on anything but what his grandmother had just revealed.
She’d known this visit
would be difficult. As would spending time in his company. But the mention of Lady Katherine and Miss Delaford had been a sharp reminder of just how dangerous to her it was to be in his company. There would never be a time when she could hear his name or learn of some change in his immediate sphere and remain completely unmoved. And much as she’d like to erase her actions of five years ago, she could not. His grandmother had only served as a reminder of the sort of obstacles that lay between them despite their attraction.
She cared about him. What happened to him. Whom he befriended. Whom he mar—She stopped herself from finishing the thought. She cared about him. Full stop. And coming here had been a risk that had put her heart in serious peril.
Perversely, she was grateful to Lady Wrotham for reminding her of it.
“I thank you for the invitation to partake in the holiday festivities as a guest, my lord,” she said, not daring to turn and look at him. “But I fear your grandmother is right. I don’t have the right sort of clothes. And besides that, I do not wish to interfere with your . . . wooing.”
It felt odd to say the word, as if someone else had taken over her voice and spoken her thoughts.
“Damn it, Merry.” She heard the frustration in his voice. “I’m not wooing anyone. My grandmother’s scheme has nothing to do with me and my wishes. I haven’t even seen either of these ladies since they were out of the schoolroom. I’m certainly not making plans to marry them.”
When she didn’t turn around, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Please, Merry, look at me.”
Unable to ignore the note of pleading in his voice, she reluctantly turned to face him.
He’d moved closer than she realized, and as she turned, he reached out to grasp her arm so she wouldn’t stumble.
“What?” she asked harshly. “What is it you want from me, Alex?”
“I want to know who convinced you to leave, Merry,” he said, his brows drawn. “It was the dowager, wasn’t it?”
Merry closed her eyes against his pleading expression. She’d vowed not to come between him and his family. But it was impossible to resist, especially when he’d obviously guessed at the truth long ago.
Pulling away from his hold on her arm, she said with an exasperated sigh, “You seem to have guessed the truth of the matter. So there’s no need for me to explain. I regret causing you pain, Alex, but . . .”
“Merry,” he said, thrusting a hand through his hair. “Did you not hear what I just said to her about my mother? The dowager has been responsible for driving away the two most important women in my life. My mother, and you. You’re doing neither of us any favors by pretending that your silence about how she convinced you to leave is preserving some sort of ideal familial bond between us. I will never forgive her.”
His words took the breath from her. And before she could respond, he spoke again, in a gentler tone. “Let’s not speak of this now. I can see that you’re tired. It’s been a long day for both of us, and this interview with Grandmama certainly didn’t help matters.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, and was grateful it didn’t seem she needed to respond, for he took her hand and said, “I’m pleased you’re here. And I can assure you not all of my family is as difficult to manage as the dowager.”
Merry couldn’t stop her laugh at that. “I should hope not,” she said with a rueful grin. “Otherwise I should feel quite sorry for you, indeed.”
“The last thing I want from you, Merry, is your pity,” he said in a low voice, lifting her hand to his lips and, at the last moment, turning it to kiss her palm. “The last thing in the world.”
With that, he bowed, and led her from the room.
It was with a sense of bewilderment that Merry heard him summon a footman.
“Rest well,” Alex said with one last intense gaze, before leaving her with the footman, who escorted her to her rooms.
* * *
Within minutes, Merry was alone in the same bedchamber she’d used all those years ago.
If she didn’t know better, she’d swear no time had passed at all. Here she was again, her heart racing because of Alex and facing the prospect of a week in his home.
Leaning back against the door, she closed her eyes.
Was it only a few days since she lost Charlotte? It seemed a lifetime ago.
What had she gotten herself into?
* * *
Alex found his cousin in the nursery watching over baby Lottie as she slept in the crib that very likely had been the bed for both of them when they were infants.
“She’s lovely,” Will said, stroking a finger over Lottie’s chubby cheek. “Just like her mother.”
He’d thought to give the man a bit of time to adjust to the new circumstances before he raked him over the coals, but Alex couldn’t help speaking up.
“What were you thinking?” he asked in a low voice, conscious of the sleeping child. “Abandoning your bride only a few days after the wedding? Telling no one? I don’t know why her father didn’t seek you out and put a bullet in you. Or at the very least, force you to take on your responsibility.”
Will turned, and Alex could see that, despite his wonder at the baby, there was real grief and shame in his eyes. Whatever had made him act as he’d done, he was sorry for it now. Of course, that didn’t bring Charlotte back.
Wordlessly, his cousin indicated that they should leave the nursery, and Alex followed him from the room and into the hall.
“I was an arse,” he said abruptly. “I wanted her, and I did what it took to have her.”
“And then you abandoned her.” Alex felt the anger he’d harbored since Merry first showed up on his doorstep with the infant resurge. “That’s not like you, Will. You’ve always been a little ramshackle but never cruel. Never an outright rake. She was your wife. You owed her not only the protection of your name but also the courtesy of telling her where you’d gone. Did you know that her family didn’t believe her when she claimed she’d been married? Did you know they threw her out of their home? Without Miss Parks, she’d have been out on the street. All because you couldn’t keep your hands off of her.”
He hadn’t meant to open his budget like that, but it had been building up for days now. Alex held his cousin in some affection, which meant more than anything he felt shame over the way Will had behaved. Shame and disappointment.
But apparently Will hadn’t known the details of just what Charlotte had endured, because he went pale at Alex’s words.
“That’s not possible. Her family wouldn’t have . . . that is to say, they doted on her, she assured me of it. And I only meant to leave her for a few days.” He’d been standing with his back to the wall, and suddenly, as if his knees had buckled, he slid to the floor into a sitting position. “I am a bastard and a coward,” he said miserably. “And I spent months in a drunken stupor before you forced me North to get sorted.”
He put his head in his hands, and Alex knew he was weeping.
Reluctantly, Alex sat down beside his cousin and placed a comforting hand on his arm.
Will had never been malicious. He’d been a drunkard. And a bit wild. But he’d never intentionally given harm. Though sometimes it was the unintentional acts that did the most damage.
When his cousin had calmed a bit, and blown his nose into his handkerchief, Alex said, “You made mistakes, Will. Bad ones. But you have the chance to make them right. Do right by your child. Visit Charlotte’s parents and explain to them what happened. On top of everything else, you robbed Charlotte of her good standing with them.”
“I can’t say I’m very eager to forgive them,” Will said hoarsely. “If they hadn’t been so eager to believe the worst, she’d still be alive. At least she’d have had a physician in attendance for the birth.”
“You’re the one who set that in motion,” Alex said, reminding him. He wouldn’t let Will continue to believe in the fantasy that anyone was culpable for this situation but him. Charlotte’s parents might have been cruel to throw her out, b
ut it wouldn’t have happened without Will’s abandonment. They likely would have been surprised and maybe unhappy about an elopement, but they’d, at the very least, have allowed her to remain with them. Though he did agree that it was particularly harsh of them to take the actions they had. Once again, he was grateful that Merry had been there. “I don’t intend to be harsh, but you must accept responsibility. This is your doing.”
Will leaned his head back against the wall. “I know. Believe me. I think I’m just looking for some way to take some bit of the weight off my shoulders. But that’s where it belongs.”
“I know this has been a great deal to take in over the course of one afternoon,” Alex said. “Take a few days to absorb it. Get to know your daughter. Then do what you can to set things right. I know you’ve changed, Will. I’ve seen the change in you. Don’t forget that it was your old way of life that led you into this business. And don’t let this lure you back into the bottle. You have responsibilities now. A child.”
“I won’t forget, Alex,” the other man said. “I can’t forget. There’s no way to make amends to Charlotte, but I can see to it that our child is welcomed into her mother’s family. Though they don’t deserve it after the way they treated their own daughter.”
“At the very least, they will acknowledge her, which will go a long way toward removing any taint that might fall on her.” It was a sad truth that society had a tendency to place the blame for a parent’s sins squarely on the shoulders of the child, no matter how innocent that child might be.
They sat in companionable silence for a moment before Will asked, “Is that the same Miss Parks to whom you were betrothed all those years ago?”
It was inevitable that his family would either remember Merry from their time together or, at the very least, recall her name. Alex prepared himself for intrusive questions over Merry’s visit.
“She is indeed,” he said, unable to keep the note of hope from his voice. He was fairly sure most people didn’t get a second chance at finding happiness, but he couldn’t help but feel that this was his. And he wasn’t going to squander it.
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